Poem by Elizabeth Barrett-Browning

Sonnets from the Portuguese. 30. I see thine image through my tears to-night

I see thine image through my tears to-night,
And yet to-day I saw thee smiling.  How
Refer the cause?—Belovëd, is it thou
Or I, who makes me sad?  The acolyte
Amid the chanted joy and thankful rite
May so fall flat, with pale insensate brow,
On the altar-stair. I hear thy voice and vow,
Perplexed, uncertain, since thou art out of sight,
As he, in his swooning ears, the choir’s amen.
Belovëd, dost thou love? or did I see all
The glory as I dreamed, and fainted when
Too vehement light dilated my ideal,
For my soul’s eyes?  Will that light come again,
As now these tears come—falling hot and real?

1. The Holy Night
2. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 11. And therefore if to love can be desert
3. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 40. Oh, yes! they love through all this world of ours!
4. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 25. A heavy heart, Belovëd, have I borne
5. Sonnets from the Portuguese. 12. Indeed this very love which is my boast

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